


Touch

by Steadfxst



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Praise Kink, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: Jim doesn't know how to handle his feelings for Bob.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on June 22, 2017. This work has since been edited and updated. This work has since been edited and updated. Since I just read and fell in love with Comey's new book--A Higher Loyalty--I thought I'd bring it back.

The first time they touch is an accident.

Their fingers brush when exchanging folders, and Jim audibly gasps, “Oh!” in surprise.

Bob doesn’t look up from his work, and he doesn’t otherwise indicate that something strange had happened, but his papers briefly stop rustling, and Jim wishes the floor would swallow him up. It’s time like these that he wishes he were small. Small enough to hide and have no one ever find him.

“So,” Bob says after a small eternity. Jim feels his heart stop. This was it. Bob was going to send him away. He swallows. “Have you read this _New York Times_ article?”

He breathes.

“Not yet,” Jim says.

“I’ll save it for you, then,” Bob says.

They lapse into their usual comfortable silence and resume their reading.

Jim's heart pounds.

* * *

The second time they touch, Bob saves his life.

Well, sort of.

Jim's so engrossed in reading some emails on his phone while he walks into work that he doesn’t see the workman’s “watch your step" sign, as the top step was being repaired. He’s moving so fast—long legs and all—that he stumbles, ready to topple like a redwood when hands grasp him by his forearms and help him regain his balance.

It’s Bob.

Jim blushes.

“Gee, thanks. You saved my life.”

Bob smiles as Jim rights himself.

“Don’t mention it. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my best man.”

Jim’s lips parts in surprise, mouth wanting nothing more than to kiss him right then and there in the vestibule of the Hoover building. But he resists. He has to.

“Thanks, Bob,” he repeats.

Bob realizes himself and let’s go of Jim’s arms. Jim would almost say that Bob was acting sheepish, but it’s hard to tell with FBI directors. After all, hiding one’s emotions well was kind of a big part of being an agent—and a decorated soldier and war hero.

“You’re welcome, Jim. I’ll see you at the briefing.”

Bob walks off, and Jim pockets his phone as he walks to his office, trying hard to get his breathing back to normal.

* * *

The third time they touch, Jim considers resigning.

If you work at the FBI, no matter your position, it’s safe to say you have limited privacy and free time, so any time you have to be alone with your thoughts is a blessing.

Jim is off the clock—it’s nearly nine at night—and he has no more meetings to attend nor phone calls to make. It’s just him, in his office, alone. It’s so quiet that it seems like the whole building is sleeping, even though he knows the Hoover building is never completely empty.

Still, he feels relaxed enough that he decides to seize the opportunity and opens his laptop. He feels kind of silly about it, but he opens an incognito tab and opens his go-to porn browser. Jim knows this isn’t his proudest moment—and honestly, who would feel proud of jerking off _at work?_ —but he knows that if he goes home, he won’t have the luxury of peace and quiet.

He undoes his pants with one hand while the other clicks on the search bar. He hesitates before typing “men in suits, kissing.”

It's the worst kind of cliche, but...He clicks on the first interesting-looking video and skips to the middle, hand already at work.

Jim doesn’t hear the knock at his door that happens at 9:12 P.M. Nor does he hear anyone call his name. And Bob, hearing noise coming from an office that shouldn’t be occupied at this time of night, opens the door.

Jim looks up from the screen, eyes wide and face reddening with shame as the men in the video moan. He slams his laptop shut, but the damage had been done. He’s glad for the small mercy that he's sitting behind his desk.

“I—I can explain,” Jim stammers.

Bob doesn’t say anything. He just nods his head, walks inside, closes the door, and stands in front of Jim’s desk.

“I just—” Jim lets out a shaky breath. It’s so strange to be looking up at Bob. “I’m so sorry. Honestly, I—”

“Jim.”

Jim swallows. He’s pretty sure his mouth has never been drier.

“Maybe you should lock the door next time,” Bob suggests.

Jim is about to start apologizing again, but then he see Bob’s mouth quirk, and he stops. Bob was teasing him!

“N-next time?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to fire you. But I think some discretion would be to your benefit.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

Bob nods again.

“Good,” Bob says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jim is just starting to wonder why Bob hasn’t left yet when Bob suddenly leans down and cups one side of his face in one of his hands.

Bob looks him right in the eye and says, “And don’t even think of typing up the resignation letter I’m sure you’re already drafting in that big brain of yours.”

Jim’s mouth drops open, but Bob pulls away and is out the door before he can respond, before he can even  _think_ of a response.

Bob shuts the door behind him, and it only takes him three strokes before he’s coming all over his handkerchief.

* * *

The fourth time isn’t an accident, and Jim isn't sure it really count since they don't touch each other. ~~There's touching involved though.~~

They’ve only been on the phone for a few minutes, but Jim can already feel a stirring. This only even happens when he talks to Bob. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's the fact that Bob can't see him, so his inhibitions are lower or maybe it's his gravelly voice. 

Jim is pretty sure he has himself under control, but then the smallest of whimpers escapes at the most inopportune time…

Bob stops talking mid-sentence.

“Bob, I—”

“Jim. It's...alright."

Whether Bob was as forgiving or indulgent with other employees, Jim is sure he'll never know. All he knows is that he doesn't have a clue why bob lets him off the hook all the time. He knows he doesn't deserve it.

"I—”

“You can…touch yourself. If you need to.”

Jim does. He feels like he has to; Bob practically  _told_ him to. He lets out a moan.

“There you go.”

He feels pretty fucking pathetic when the praise makes his stomach swoop, but it doesn’t put him off enough to stop. His dick twitches in his hand.

“Jesus. Jesus, I—This is something else, Bob.”

Jim's meekness doesn't escape Bob's notice. He might as well be in the same room as the man. Bob wonders if he should tell Jim that he's going to be late for a meeting. It's strange, this thing he and Jim have. They barely speak, even when they’re both in D.C., but then they have moments like this, and he doesn't think he's ever been closer to someone. He knows Jim doesn't have some agenda, and that makes it all the more easy to enjoy the sound of Jim panting into the receiver.

“Do you want to come, Jim?”

“I could come right now.”

He phrases it almost like a question. It's cute. Something people do when they want to get away with something. He’s heard enough perps use it on him to know.

“Go ahead, son. You've earned it.”

Jim grunts into the receiver a few times, and when he gets real quiet, Bob knows it's over. Poor tired thing. Bob checks his watch; now he _definitely_ had to get straight to his meeting. It would be unseemly for the director to be late.

“I’ve got to go, Jim.”

“Of course, Bob. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you on for so long.”

“It’s alright. I’ll always be here when you need me.”

“Goodbye, Bob.”

Bob hangs up the phone. He means it though. He’d do anything for Jim.

And that scares him.

* * *

The fifth time is on purpose.

Bob grunts behind him as he slides inside him, hips resting against Jim's for a moment before sliding out to thrust in again. He gets acquainted with Jim's body quickly and soon starts up a fast pace as he moves. Once he's got a rhythm going, he starts talking again because he knows how much Jim liked hearing him when they were on the phone.

“You're perfect, Jim, you know that? You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Jim whimpers while he talks. It makes Jim’s heart ache and his dick throb with want.

“You make it hard to concentrate. Here and at work and—damn it, Jim. You feel so good.”

“Please, Bob. Please, I have to. Please?”

Bob obliges by reaching one hand down to his cock, and he jerks Jim's cock at the same pace his hips are going. Bob leans his head down and begins kissing his neck, a warm and welcome counterpoint to everything else they've been doing. His lips are soft and warm on his neck, his ear, his jaw. When it gets to be too much, Bob tucks his head against Jim's and whispers soft things to him, and it makes something in his stomach clench, hoping that this wasn't just some pity fuck, that it actually meant something to the both of them. That Bob cared about him. That he wanted to be here.

“Bob? Bob, can I? Can I please...?”

“Yeah, Jim. Come on. You can do it. Get nice and wet for me. You're doing so well.”

Those words are kinder and gentler than anything else Bob has ever said to him, and Jim finds himself at their mercy. They are so sweet, and his insides twist with happiness and he's coming, coming, coming with Bob’s hand fisting his cock and fucking his ass.

Bob helps him through it. He soon notices that Bob has slowed down significantly, just for Jim, just to make him comfortable. When he gives a final shudder, Bob clears his throat, shifting anxiously behind him, still hard.

“Jim?” he asks, trying to gauge if it’s okay if he—

"Yeah," he says, voice breaking.

Bob picks up pace again but is more controlled than before. He's aware of Jim's sensitivity. Jim can tell he's close when Bob can't hold back his sounds of pleasure.

Jim wants him to feel as good as he feels, so he clenches his ass, squeezing him as much as he can in his floaty state. Bob lets out a long groan and empties himself deeply into Jim's ass.

Bob carefully pulls out when he's finished and lays down next to Jim. He kisses Jim's face with gentle lips and murmurs tender things in his ear. Jim grins.

There's nothing more he could ever want after this.


End file.
